


Portal to Anywhere

by quailbirdbb



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: And they’ll show Ricks that until they die, Basically Evil Morty is gonna show Ricks he’s fed up with their bs, Evil Morty flips off any and all Ricks, Evil Morty is literally a mother goose to his poor Morties, Gen, I’m not happy with the title, Miami Morty is a real sashaying sweetheart, Morties are human, Morty has enough, Multi, Revolution, and Morty & Miami comes along for the ride, honk honk vibe check, idk how many Morties I’m actually gonna add, title may change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:27:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22013341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quailbirdbb/pseuds/quailbirdbb
Summary: C-137 Morty has had enough.Running away from home was the easy part. Hiding from Rick’s radar was way harder.When Morty finds himself found by his Miami counterpart after stealing Rick’s portal gun, he’s taken under President Morty’s wing along with a group of healing Morties abandoned by their Ricks.President Morty’s goal is to triumph over the Ricks that said he couldn’t, and Morty tags along for the ride. After all, the One True Morty had to stand for his people, right?His president counterpart is a bit more sinister than Morty would've anticipated, and through everything...Morty doesn’t know what he’d do if his Rick was killed.
Relationships: Evil Morty & Miami Morty, Miami Morty/Miami Rick (Pocket Mortys), Morty & Evil Morty, Morty & Miami Morty, Rick & Morty - Relationship, Rick Sanchez & Morty Smith
Comments: 12
Kudos: 63





	1. Ready. Aim. Fire.

“Later, punk!”

Morty’s head ducked down, eyes squeezing shut. In the shabby alleyway, slick water ran down the broken-down pipes and pebbles dug into Morty’s open palms. Shadows danced away with a chorus of sharp laughter.

And Morty was alone again.  
  


With shaking limbs— because of the cold,  _ not _ because he was about to cry— he reached over to grab his backpack.

It was torn to bits. Flimsy strings held it together and any contents that he had had in it had been crushed or stolen.

Useless, now.

Kicking it away, Morty brought up his hands close to his eyes, peering at the glimmers of red that begun to slip between the cuts. 

He let his shoulders drop with a sigh.

He had just been  _ mugged _ of all things. Delayed bus ride? He could’ve gone through that. Sitting next to a snoring six-year-old? No problem!

In fact, running away from home was the easy part. With no one keeping tabs on him, Morty was able to sneak out just before the sun rose. It was Saturday, so nobody would’ve bothered him until at least ten. 

Stealing $200 of his mom’s savings and taking $100 of his own had been slightly harder. Not physically, but definitely mentally. 

And the two-hour bus ride was uncomfortable and too long for Morty’s taste, but he had made it to the city...

...and then, ultimately, was robbed.

So here Morty was, sitting in a disgusting alleyway with only his ruined bag and the clothes on his back; broke as fuck, cuts stinging on his skin, and possession-less.

Crap, they had even taken his  blanket .

Morty rose to his feet, discarding his bag to the side even farther and kicking away his phone that had been stomped to bits.

This was what Morty had wanted, _right_? To get away from his toxic family no matter what measures he had to take. With Summer so obsessed with becoming popular, Mom and Dad in a messy divorce, and Rick pressing his last buttons with his careless brush-offs, Morty had no idea how much of it he could’ve taken.

No, Morty did not regret a thing.

But he was so exposed now.

Glancing around to ease his sudden paranoia of being watched, he rubbed off the pebbles digging into his palm and finally stepped back out into the open.

It was a cold winter day. Though the sun shone, the biting winds continued to dominate the skies. 

He should’ve worn a sweater, or at least long-sleeves. 

It didn’t matter now. Morty was exhausted and hungry, and he wasn’t behind stealing an unexpecting person’s breakfast. After all, he’s done worse than _that_ during his escapades with Rick. 

Maybe he shouldn’t be proud of it.

Goosebumps spread across his arms at the next sharp breeze. Shiiit, it was fucking _freezing_.

From the corner of his gaze, a glow of neon green caught his eye.

_ Move fast.  _

Morty ducked behind a group of high-heeled girls. With the crowd of people buzzing along the city streets, it would be a pain in the ass to search for Morty.

Except for the fact that he was wearing a piss-yellow t-shirt. 

With a nervous curse, Morty pressed as close to the group of girls as he could without being noticed by them. 

If he were any dumber, he would have brushed off the glowing neon as a trick of his head, but he was older now. At least, he  _ felt _ older, but he was only 15. 

Treat all unusual occurrences as potential dangers. Better safe than sorry. Continue on with the group. Stay _hidden_. 

“Morty!” Shouted a voice in the crowd. Said boy cringed, jumping at the call but remaining in the safety of the girls’ forms. There was no way Rick could see him; Morty was too short in comparison to everyone around him. “I-I know you’re fUCKIN’ he-here you gremlin!”

“Are you lost?” 

Morty blinked up at one of the girls; a brown-eyed blondie with longer eyelashes than what was probably usual and with a god-awful shade of lipstick that didn’t quite look normal on her.

Lips pressing into a thin line as Rick screamed out his name again, Morty nodded quickly. “C-Can I follow you guys for a bi-it?”

“Aw, you have a little stutter!” Cooed a dark-haired girl, staring at Morty as his face flushed a light pink. His stutter— cute? What the fuck was up with these ladies? “Of course you can tag along with us, baby.”

“It’s not a permanent stutter.” Defended the first girl, rolling her eyes. “He’s obviously cold, boo. Lookit him; little yellow short-sleeved shirt in forty degree weather. You must be freezing! Here, take my jacket!”

Before Morty’s could protest, the jacket was already shoved into his numbed hands. He froze up. For a second, he expected it to explode with some hidden bomb. 

It didn’t explode. 

“Thank you...”

“ Morty !” 

Ah, shit.

Morty glanced over his shoulder, catching sight of a familiar, white lab coat weaving through the crowd of people. Ohhh, shit. Oh man. He was so fucked. 

Rick met eyes with him. No amount of people between them could protect Morty from that fact.

He ran. 

Without another word to the girls, without another moment of thought, without a proper plan, Morty barreled down the buzzing sidewalk. He shoved on the jacket that was handed to him only a minute earlier. Maybe it would give him some camouflage.

Somehow, however, Morty knew that once he was spotted by Rick, there was no more hiding. 

Rick slammed the teenager into the wall of a rickety building just a street across from where he had first caught sight of him.

Bite your tongue. Don’t say a thing. 

Morty’s jaw set, cheek pressed against the cool brick of the wall. He refused to meet eyes with his relative. When it became clear that he was set on saying nothing, Rick snorted.

“I put a tracker on you.” He said, slowly, easing his hold on his grandson. “Wh-What? You thought I wouldn’t find you?”

No. In the end, Morty knew Rick would always find him.

“You really are fifteen. Can’t— can’t even fuckin’ think r-right. You just let y-your little teenage hormones go straight into your head. You’re a flat-out moron, Morty. Fuckin’  moron , Mort.”

At this point, Morty knew Rick was just rambling. He let the older man grumble on under his breath as he led the teenager off to somewhere prying eyes couldn’t reach. Morty’s felt his face heat up with humiliation— then anger. 

This was it. This was what make Morty finally snap and run off. 

Rick Sanchez and his talk about Morty’s idiot tendencies.

His hand was as cold as the winter winds; words beginning to be overtaken by the ringing in Morty’s numbed ears. Morty’s eyes snapped up at the sound of a portal opening.

No. No, _no_ ,  _ no —! _

This was not what he wanted. No more.

Morty didn’t struggle against Rick’s set hold. He knew all-too-well that it would only tucker him out.

He bit Rick’s hand. 

It was  rewarding to hear Rick cry out. Satisfied, he felt the grasp drop from his wrist, and just as quickly he was pushing and shoving against the scientist’s advancements.

“Morty, what the fUCK! Y-you bitch! I’m trying to take— take you home!”

“If I w-w- wanted to go home, I-I wouldn’t have left, Rick!”

They fell in a mangled heap on the ground, and Morty kicked his grandfather’s gut with all his might. 

A clatter on the ground. Alarms blared in Morty’s head as he snapped over to look at what had dropped.

The portal gun.

Move fast. Don’t hesitate. 

Grab _grAB_ _ GRAB—!_

The metal was cool against his finger tips. The dials were foreign. It wouldn’t stop him— not now, when he was so close. He turned the dimension dial blindly.

No time to think. Only act. Shoot.  _ Shoot ! _

The previous portal disappeared. Rick was yelling at him now, but Morty couldn’t hear what he was actually saying. It was garbled to his ears. 

That was fine. Morty didn’t want to hear Rick complaining about his stupid ass anyways. 

Not anymore.

He fired the gun, and the green of the portal glowed across their forms.

Morty writhed away from Rick, sending one more punch to the alcoholic’s face before stumbling back-first into the open portal.

And then the portal closed, and Morty was falling.


	2. Domestic Heart Next to Me

A frigid wave slapped Morty in the face. For a second, he couldn’t breathe. 

And then everything came back. 

“fUCK OFF!” He barked, abruptly sitting up. His hands clawed around blindly. “I-I’ve gotta  portal gun—! S-s-some... where?”

Morty’s eyes shot open. He stared down at his empty palms, then brought up a hand to run through his  wet hair. 

And he was  shirtless .

“Sorry about that.” Apologized a stunningly familiar voice next to him. “You’ve been out for a while.”

Morty whipped around, meeting eyes with a face almost just like his own. He frowned, balling up the blankets in his fist. This odd-looking Morty flashed him a minx-like grin. 

It did little to comfort him. Especially when the probably-fake-blond Morty placed an empty bucket on the ground; probably previously filled with the cold water that had been so rudely poured onto him.

“W-where’s my shirt?” He squeaked, crossing his arms. Then, with a tone even higher; “where’s my— my portal gun?!”

“ Your portal gun?” Echoed the Morty. “You don’t gotta hide it, sugar. I know it’s your Rick’s.” A dramatic sigh. “I don’t blame you. Fuckin’ maniacs.” 

His voice was a drawled coo, Morty noticed. He watched as the other Morty faced away from him, ruffling through some sort of chest.

“We had to take off your shirt to check for injuries. At least, that’s what my Rick said. Between you and I, he probably just wanted to see you naked.” Now that caught him off-guard. He nuzzled his burning face into the blankets at that disturbing thought.

The Morty was still babbling on.

“I found you on the sidewalk. Crazy, right? Some guy passed out on the streets of _Miami_. I didn’t think too much of it but when I got closer, _wow_! You looked a lot like I did two years ago.” Those enthusiastic eyes turned over to sparkle at Morty. “I’ve never seen another Morty before. ‘Course, I know about the different dimensions and the citadel but I’ve never been there— ah, here, baby.”

A sweater was tossed over to Morty. He caught it— barely. Turning a suspicious eye towards the Morty, he ran an absentminded thumb across the light pink, fuzzy material. 

“This isn’t my shirt.”

The alluring Morty slipped a breezy laugh. “Sorry, but we don’t wear yellow shirts here. We’ll be matching sweater buddies! You’re wearing that or nothing at all— oh, except for your jacket. It’s cute. Where’d you get it?”

Morty glanced down at the jacket at the foot of the makeshift bed. There, the jacket that the kind woman had given him lay, untouched.

And it was kinda cute—  in a way ; light denim, but the sleeves a smooth, white fuzz. 

“I-I— uh...” He shook his head.

The blond Morty leaned back, smirking, and that’s when he decided that keeping his mouth shut would be smarter than anything. Morty shrugged on the pink sweater and moved to grab the jacket when his counterpart spoke again.

“What dimension are you from?” He asked, prompting his cheek on an open palm. “Don’t worry, boo, I’m not gonna sell you out, I just don’t think ‘Morty’ will work between the two of us.”

“C-137.” Morty replied. He exhaled comfortably against the soft clothing. “Wh-what should— should I call you?”

A mischievous grin. “Call me Miami. Cool, right?” Miami jumped up suddenly, sprawling his upper body over the bed. Morty flinched. “This is so exciting! I mean, Rick and I have a little  fun all the time but this is so much more terrifying! Isn’t that great?” 

“N-no...” Morty mutter softly. “Not at all. Are you crazy?”

“Of course I am. You’re not one of those boring Morties, are you? I mean, you fucked across a dimension with your Rick’s portal gun. You must’ve stolen it, right? You can’t be all that bland.”

Something clicked in Morty. “The portal gun. Where is it? I’ve... I-I’ve gotta get out of here.”

Miami’s harshly-enticing eyes dialed down into something gentler. He placed a certain hand on Morty’s arm. “Why’d you run away?”

“Because Ricks are maniacs— you— you said it yourself.” 

The door opened. Miami didn’t seem all that alarmed, but Morty recoiled so fast that his head hit the wall behind him.

“Ah— f-fuck.”

Miami’s Rick turned over to him with some sort of distaste. At least, that’s what Morty thought it was. It was impossible to know for sure under his tinted shades. 

At least _his_ Rick showed expressions that he could actually _read_.

“Which dimension are you from, and where’s your Rick?”

“Lay off, Rick.” Piped Miami. He made a little shooing motion with his hand. “Look at the poor little shit. Wherever his Rick is, it’s not here.”

“You don’t know that.” The Rick said. 

Great. A _paranoid_ Rick. 

“Miami’s right.” Morty decided to defend the teenager that had been so nice to him. “My Rick’s not here. It’s just me.”

“Where is he?”

“Fuck off old man!” Miami got up where he stood and proceeded to shove his partner. To the side, Morty held his breath, clenching the sheets harder.

“H-hey, be careful.”

“My Rick’s a sweetheart. He wouldn’t hurt me, baby.” He came a bit closer. Even Miami’s Rick inched away slightly. “Is that why you’re so paranoid? Was your Rick violent?”

Morty’s jaw set. What was he to say? Of course, his Rick has never beaten him before. If they were to find out that he had just gotten overdramatic? 

He would be sent back to dimension C-137, and he would rather rot than return to his place as a sidekick. 

And for what? His camouflaging brainwaves? Chances are that Rick had already gotten another Morty with that stupid free Morty voucher. 

So instead, Morty bit at the inside with his cheek. “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

Miami nodded. “It’s alright. You can stay with us for as long as you like, baby!”

Snorting, Rick added on. “I said nothing about letting him stay after he woke up. I’ll drop him off at the Citadel as soon as possible. Handling another Rick’s Morty is enough to cause trouble.”

“The Citadel?” Parroted Morty, turning narrowed eyes at the pink-clothed Rick. “They’ll just send me back to my dimension.”

Before Rick could reply, Miami slid over and sat on the bed, blocking his companion’s view. “Actually, we heard that a Morty was elected president! Isn’t that cool? Things are changing around the Citadel of Ricks.”

Morty bit the inside of his cheek. “A Morty as the president? Y-y-you’re not fucking with me, are you?” 

“Not at the moment, babe.” His counterpart said lewdly. From behind him, Rick twitched. Miami’s crude behavior vanished— which seemed to be a regular pattern, now. “I know you’re afraid. Any dimension you can think of exists out there when it comes to Ricks and Morties.”

Featherlight fingers pressed against Morty’s cheek, tilting his head off to the side slightly. “...even a dimension with a Rick that’ll harm that pretty face of yours.”

Morty rolled the dice. His hand went up to catch Miami’s own; a gesture that he hoped was gentle, but his palms were already all-too-clammy. “Can I at least stay for another night?”

“‘Course, hun.”

Miami glanced over his shoulder, giving his Rick a look that Morty imagined was too pleading for him to resist. Bending to Miami’s will, Rick bit his tongue. 

“I don’t care. I don’t want to hear you two fucking, though.”

The comment made Miami laugh. Rick had already turned away, though, and made a fast exit. Turning towards Morty, Miami offered another small giggle. “He’s joking. You’d be more like... a brother to me. Besides, I don’t cheat.”

Miami broke away from Morty’s grasp, instead taking Morty’s other hand that was twisting the bedsheets painfully. He eased the comforter away from the death-grip. 

“Rest, boo. It’s still late. I’ll bring you the something to eat in the morning.”

**Author's Note:**

> I’m so unhappy with this.


End file.
